Meet Joshua

This is Joshua.  He was one of the first kids at our gate when we arrived in the Philippines back in February.  He spoke no English, but his smile captured my heart from the very beginning.  He was always at our gate waiting for us to return from where ever we had been no matter what time of the day or night, so that he could come in the yard to play with our kids or work for us.  He was constantly offering to sweep, clean the yard, cut the grass, trim the bushes for just a few pesos or for some food.

Sweeping the driveway
(Yes, that is a Filipino broom.)

Joshua had a bad reputation in the neighborhood and was one of the kids that we had been "warned" about, but there was something in his smile and something in his eyes that told me he just needed some love and guidance.  We were told not to let him in our yard and especially not our house, because he couldn't be trusted. But of course, he was one of the first ones to be invited to come into the yard.  And was one of the first ones to join us at our table inside for a meal.  He quickly became a regular at our house and at our table.  And eventually began sleeping over often.

I soon found out that he was not enrolled in school and hadn't been to school since second or third grade.  I also discovered that he had a great desire to learn, so I began teaching him Math a few times a week.  Yes, the English teacher started with Math!  He spoke NO English, and I spoke NO Visayan.  Teaching addition and subtraction was easier!  We soon moved on to learning colors especially while playing UNO, his favorite game.

Playing his daily game of UNO!

I knew from the very beginning that Joshua was one of the reasons that God had sent us to the Philippines and had put us in the big blue house on the corner in Avinca Village.  But being the teacher, I thought that it was to help him get back into school.  So, that became "my" mission, to get Joshua back into school.

But as I began to question him about meeting his parents to get him back in school, he shut down.  He stopped coming around for a few days.  I began to question the neighbors, and I found out that his mother had died shortly after delivering him leaving behind five other siblings and this newborn.  Joshua's dad lived in another town far from Malaybalay in order to find work to support his family.  Joshua had been raised by an aunt as a baby, then lived with his dad for awhile, and was now living with one of his sisters who was struggling to support her own family.

Joshua on his first day of school.

I finally got Joshua to introduce me to his sister, so that I could talk with her about helping to get him back in school.  She was so grateful for the change she had seen in Joshua lately and was eager to get him back in school.  We found an alternative school with an elementary program for Joshua to enroll in so that he could catch up to where he needed to be in order to enter high school next year.  We agreed to help with transportation, school fees, lunch, etc.  Mission Accomplished!

Or so I thought.  By the time all of this happened, Joshua had practically moved into our house and had become part of our family.  Our kids began talking about adopting him and taking him back to the US with us.  We told them how crazy that was even though Travis and I both secretly longed to do that very thing.  One day while we were discussing it, we recalled the family retreat that we had had not long after we had arrived in the Philippines.

During that retreat, we received many verses about taking in strangers, taking in foreigners, and helping widows and orphans.  And several verses from the book of Joshua.  We remembered how even way back then during the retreat our kids had mentioned that God wanted us to adopt Joshua.  After recalling this, Travis and I decided that we needed to really pray about this and whether it was God calling us to adopt again.

Swimming at the cold spring for the first time.

Soon there was no doubt that God was asking us once again to accept another person's child as our own which we had done already.  But we had no idea how to even approach the subject with Joshua's family, but God had already taken care of that too.  Just as we were wondering how to get in touch with Joshua's dad that lived far away, he showed up in the neighborhood for a visit.  God had sent him right to our street.  We set up a meeting to talk with  Joshua's father, one of his sisters, and one of his brothers about his schooling and his living arrangements.

We were worried that his dad had come back to town to get him or to tell us that he needed to move back in with his sister.  He had already become part of our family, and we didn't want to loose him.  Our biggest fear was that all the signs leading us to wanting to adopt Joshua had not actually been from God but from our own longing for more children.

Opening his first piece of mail from the US
and finding Chewy Sweettarts!

But as the "meeting" began, God revealed that He had already set this idea in the hearts and minds of Joshua's family.  Our wanting to adopt Joshua was a relief and an answered prayer for their family.  This family had been struggling for so long just to put food on their table each day.  With everyone working or searching for work, Joshua had been shuffled from place to place. And with no one to really look out for him during the day, he became a wanderer and eventually quit going to school and began to hang out with a not so good crowd.

His family had all seen the excitement he was now showing about learning and going to school, but also the change in his attitude and behavior.  Everyone was in agreement that the best thing for Joshua would be to be adopted by our family.  They all wanted a better life for him.  It was one of the saddest things I have ever listened to.  Because they loved him so much, they were willing to give him up so that he would have a chance at a better life.  By the end of our visit, there wasn't a dry eye.

The next step was to talk to Joshua about all this.  Again, we had no idea how to bring this up to him, especially since we had the whole language barrier thing still going on.  But again, God had a plan already set in motion that helped us approach the subject very easily.  After an emotional wedding ceremony where the priest talked about what a Catholic family should look like, Joshua told us that he wanted a family like the priest had talked about.  He told us that we were the only people to show him love and kindness no matter what.  He shared how we were the first people to invite him into our house and to our table.  He explained how much it meant to him that we trusted him, invited him into our family, and loved him despite what others had said.

Then he told us that the only thing he ever wanted was a mother to hug him and love him.  And then added that he wanted me to be that mother.  I can't begin to describe my emotions at that point.  Those were the saddest, most heart wrenching, yet the most beautiful words I have heard come out of a child's mouth.  I could not speak, so I did the only thing I could do, the thing any mother would do,  I grabbed him and hugged him.

In the past few weeks, we have been meeting with a lawyer to figure out if this adoption is possible and what we need to do to make it happen.  We have run into several roadblocks and speed bumps this week.  We are asking that you add us and Joshua and his family to your prayer list.  Please pray that God's will be done and that the transition will be a smooth one for all of us involved.  Pray that God will guide the lawyer to the quickest and easiest route for this adoption.  We know that God has already planned another Day the Lord Made Just For Us.

Our new missionary family!

***We have also discovered that international adoptions cost a lot more than our domestic one did.  If you feel called to help us with application processing fees and court costs that we will encounter along the way, you can donate to our mission fund at http://www.fmcmissions.com/portfolio/travis-and-melissa-seilhan/gallery/missionaries/.  Just type Adoption Fees in the comment box.  

I Do 11Xs

While most of you were celebrating the Fourth of July, we were celebrating the wedding of eleven couples who got married in the Church.  (We are a day ahead of you guys!)  We started out with a few couples from our neighborhood who has told us while visiting with them before the baptisms of their children how they were never actually married because they couldn't afford the license or the required classes (both civil and church ones) much less afford the cost of a wedding ceremony and reception.

We knew that missionaries before us had done "mass" weddings and the wheels began to turn back in April.  After talking with Father about why so many couples weren't able to receive the Sacrament of Marriage, the wedding train was full speed ahead.  Father was just as anxious as we were to give the couples in our neighborhood the opportunity to receive the nuptial graces that come with the sacrament.  After witnessing my own brother's wedding back in the USA in May, I knew that God was calling us to begin planning a wedding!

We had only two months to plan a wedding, but with God as the wedding planner it all fell into place.  We had our wonderful Filipino missionary friends, the Leanos, running all over the island getting birth certificates, baptism records, etc.  They stood in lines waiting for all the proper documents for each couple.  They had "people" for everything----a ring guy, a dress lady, a flower lady.  And we knew a caterer!

They only problem that we had was trying to figure out exactly how many couples we had.  Word got around our neighborhood and Father began announcing it at church.  We had couples sign up and drop out daily.  We just continued to pray for who ever was supposed to be included!

Finally, the BIG day arrived and we had eleven beautiful brides and eleven gwapo (handsome) grooms and a church full of very happy moms, dads, and children!  And the Filipino wedding traditions made the day just perfect!

The color was red.  The color of the Holy Spirit.
And boy, could we feel HIS presence!

Father blessing all the couples.

Blessing of the rings

Vows and Ring Exchange

Filipino tradition: Cord and Veil
A reminder that they are "bound" together as "one."

Another Filipino Tradition:  The couple administer
the Holy Eucharist to each other.

First "Official" Kiss

Making it officially official!

The head table

Yum!

To Us!  Finally!

First Dance

Thank you to all the sponsors and donors that helped make this dream come true for so many!  Please continue to pray for each couple as they begin their new lives together.

The Cry of the Poor

This past Wednesday, Travis and I found ourselves at the hospital at the orthopedic surgeon's office again.  This time with a two day old baby whose left foot was twisted and deformed and needed to be set in a plaster cast.  While there we met a little girl with metal rods sticking out of her leg from a surgery that she had had five months ago after breaking her leg at school.  Her leg had become infected around each rod, because they had been in her leg too long.  Her parents could not afford the instrument fee for the surgery to remove the rods and the infection was now spreading all over her body.  After hours of waiting, we talked to the hospital director who agreed that she must be admitted, put on antibiotics, and have the rods removed as soon as possible.

This was a typical day for us...Bring someone to the doctor, end up at the hospital for hours, and meet someone else in greater need than the person we brought.  And the cycle just continues with each visit to the hospital.  It pains me so much to see the poor not get the medical treatment they need, so even though this is not the ministry I dreamed of, this is the ministry we seem to do the most of lately.

The next day we went back to the hospital to check on the little girl to make sure she was getting the antibiotics that she needed.  We were "accidentally" sent up to the third floor.  As I walked up to the nurses station to ask which ward our little friend was in, I noticed that there was some commotion going on behind me.  As I turned around, my heart sank.  There were nurses performing CPR on a baby right in the middle of the hallway.  There is no ICU, so patients needing special care and attention are placed in the hallway right in front of the nurse's station.

I immediately turned around and motioned to Travis and Olivia and the two other missionaries with us to pray.  We all stood around that bed and prayed.  We prayed and prayed and prayed for a miracle.  We begged God to save this baby.  All the great scripture quotes flooded my head as we prayed, "Ask and you shall receive, lay hands on the sick, whatever you ask in my name will be given, signs and wonders will accompany you..."  I knew God was going to save this baby.  That's why He sent us here.

After about 10 minutes, which seemed like years to me, the baby was pronounced dead.  Right in front of us.  Travis and the two other missionary men immediately knelt down by the bed and prayed over the lifeless body of that baby.  I stayed back with Olivia and begged God one last time for one breath, just one breath, one movement, just one movement. But there was no movement, no breath.

I stood watching in disbelief.  I think I went through all the stages of grief in a blink of an eye.  I was in denial.  Surely, God would not have sent us up here to watch a baby die.  Then I became angry with Him for not saving that baby when we prayed so hard for a miracle.  Then I tried to bargain with Him to just revive that baby.  Wouldn't a miracle like that draw all these people around closer to You?  Wouldn't that be an awesome way to take away everyone's doubt?  I was just about on the verge of breaking down into a heap of tears when I finally realized that God was not going to bring this baby back to life.

But right at that moment I heard the most heart wrenching cry that I have ever heard---the cry of a mother for her baby.  As I opened my eyes, I saw her sitting on the floor screaming for her baby.  I looked around for the father who was just standing there next to the bed in disbelief.  I waited for someone to comfort this mother, but no one moved.  The dad was in shock, and the nurses had returned to their duties.  The other by-standers just watched.  That's when I knew why God had sent us to the third floor.

I sat down on the floor and held this mother as she screamed in my ear and cried on my shoulder.  She clung to my clothes and sobbed a sob that I will never forget.  After what seemed like an eternity, she got up and went to the bedside to see her baby and her husband took over.  I didn't think that I could manage another moment there, so I scribbled my name and phone number on a paper and handed it to the doctor and left to check on our little girl who was actually on the second floor.  Things after that seemed to just be one big blur.

We arrived at our regular Thursday night bible study and things were more chaotic then usual.  The other two families that usually "run" it weren't there, so we were in charge of the night.  Thankfully, the visiting missionaries had agreed earlier to share their testimonies and give the teachings.  All we needed to do was set up and lead the music ministry.  Isaac and Emily were leading the Praise and Worship that night for the first time.  I was so proud of the two of them, but as they began to play and we began to sing about how great our God was, all I could think about was that poor mother crumpled on the floor of that hospital.  And how my God had failed to show up that day.

The more we sang His praises, the more upset I got, the more I questioned what I was doing here in the Philippines.  Jesus cured all kinds of people while on earth and raised people from the dead, then told His disciples in John 14 that they would do the same.  He also tells them that whatever they ask in His name, He will do.  Was my faith so weak that I was unable to be the missionary that He called me to be here?  Was my faith in Him not strong enough to save that baby?  But didn't He say if we had faith the size of a mustard seed that we could move mountains?  Was my faith less than a mustard seed?  So many scriptures ran through my mind and with each one came more questions?  But ultimately they all came back to "WHY?"

Why am I here? Why did you send me to the third floor? Why did you not save that baby? Why did you let my child witness this baby's death?  Why should I believe? Why? WHY? WHY?  And while all of these questions are racing in my head, the screams and cries of that mother still rang in my ears, and the vision of her on that floor still burned in my eyes.  I was mad at the nurses, the doctor, the other by-standers who just walked away like nothing had happened.  I was mad at myself for not having enough faith.  And I was mad at God.

I went home that night and cried myself to sleep.  I cried for that mother as I thought of her going to bed that night without her baby.  I cried for my lack of faith, for my lack of trust, for my unbelief.  I cried because I felt that the God I had given up everything to follow had abandoned me when I needed Him most or worst of all didn't even exist.  I have never felt so alone and empty in all my life.

I woke the next morning to my phone ringing.  It was an unknown number.  My heart sank as I realized that the events of the previous day were not a dream and that it would be that family on the other end of the phone.  "Dear God, if you are real, give me the words to speak."  I answered to hear a man's voice on the other end asking if I was the one from the hospital.  I muttered out a "Yes."  Then he asked if we could come to their house and meet with them.  Again, the word "Yes" came out of my mouth.  He gave me directions, and I hung up the phone.

Later that day, we took our two good friends, Ricky and Irene, with us and made our way to a neighboring town to actually meet this couple.  We prayed on the way for God to give us the words to say, the courage to say them, and the strength to stand.  We arrived at the uncle's house where the couple was staying and entered the living room to find the baby laid out on the coffee table.  I had told myself that the baby would be there because I had already heard stories about the hospital sending deceased babies home in a box.  But I was not really prepared to see it laid out that way right when we entered the house.

We all knelt down beside the body and prayed.  I prayed again for God to give me the words that needed to be said.  But again words were not needed, the young mother sat next to me and hugged me.  She held my hand, and I wrapped my arm around her shoulder.  We sat like that for awhile.  Then the owner of the home explained to us that the baby's name was April Jay, he was one year old, he had had pneumonia, and his parents were so poor that they couldn't afford to bring him to the hospital.  And by the time they found enough money to go to the hospital it was too late.

I didn't think my heart could break any more than it was, but to think of the suffering of this child, of this mother, of the poor around the world, it crumbled to pieces.  Knowing that your baby is sick and dying, but not having enough money to get the help that could save their life...I can not even begin to imagine how that must feel.  As a mother, there have been numerous times that I felt helpless when my children were sick, but never have I experienced the helplessness that this family felt.  And the little bit of faith that I had found again earlier, quickly vanished.

All the way home I couldn't think of anything but how much the poor of the world suffer.  A mother is about to bury her child because she couldn't come up with enough money to get to the hospital.  Doesn't the bible say that "God hears the cry of the poor?"  Then came all the emotions again.  I went from being sad and heartbroken to mad and angry again.  I was mad at the government. I was mad at our world.  I was mad at all of the rich of the world who have no idea what suffering really is.  I was mad at myself for all those years of turning a blind eye to the reality of the poor.  And I was mad at God again.

Throughout the next day, I tried to pray. I tried to read my bible.  I tried to find answers.  I tried to mustard up the smallest bit of faith.

On Sunday morning our family, along with Ricky & Irene and their family, piled in the van to make the 45 minute trip to the chapel for the funeral.  I still didn't really understand God's plan or why He didn't hear our prayer and the cry of this family.  I was strictly going for moral support and nothing else.  But God had other plans, of course.  During the ceremony, I was called up to give the funeral "message" aka the homily since there wasn't a priest available.  Are you kidding me?  I was the least qualified person in that room to give a "message" from God about this particular situation.  "OK, Lord, you better work a miracle now."

I stood up and walked to the front of the chapel praying for words of wisdom.  I introduced myself and our family and told of how we came to meet this beautiful couple.  Then all these crazy things started coming from my mouth like "God put me there on the 3rd floor for a reason, that His plan is always better than our plan, that He can bring so much good from suffering, that He uses tragedy to bring us closer to Him, that He does hear their cries, that He wants them to completely turn their hearts to Him, to trust Him completely, etc."

These were all the things that I had known and believed a week ago, but had buried down in the bottom of my heart the past few days.  When I sat down, I realized the "message" I gave was exactly what I, myself, needed to hear.  God was speaking through my mouth directly to my heart.  He was answering all my "Why's?" and reminding me that He had not abandoned any of us that He was right there in our midst through it all.  He told me that He does hear the cry of the poor and that's why He sent me---to be His shoulder that they cry on.

It was so humbling to think that He chose me for this great mission.  He sent me, with all my faults, with all my failings, with all my doubts, with all my sins, to be His hands and feet and His shoulders. But not only is He calling me, He is calling each one of us to be the body of Christ here on earth to all those we meet: the sick, the suffering, the poor, the rich, the old, the young.

Here Comes the Bride, and Another, and Another...

Back in May, right before our trip to the USA for my brother's wedding, we were so blessed to be able to participate and sponsor the baptisms of nine of the children from our neighborhood ranging from 3 months old to 13 years old.  It was such a joy to get to know these families, but so sad to hear the reason why they had not been able to baptize their children---they simply could not afford it.  The couldn't afford the Church fee, the white gown, or the party that they thought they had to throw afterwards.

After convincing them that they didn't need the fancy gown or the big celebration afterwards, we began to collect all the necessary paperwork.  While doing this, we found that the majority of the parents had never been married, not civilly nor in the Church, for the same reason---they simply could not afford it.  Tradition here is that once you move in together and begin having children, you are considered husband and wife.  And while that seems to satisfy most government requirements, it did not satisfy these couples.  These women dreamed, as most of us girls do, of having nice, big  church wedding. I knew right then what God was calling us to do---sponsor a mass wedding.

Those of us married know how tough marriage can be.  It is even tougher when you don't have the graces that come with the Sacrament of Marriage.  I knew that God was asking us to not only sponsor this wedding, but to mentor these couples, to help them put God first in their marriages, to help them lead each other to Heaven.  And that's exactly what our parish priest asked us to do.  We will do a marriage prep seminar before the wedding ceremony and then have some follow up sessions afterwards.  And eventually try to get a couples' bible study going at the parish.

As of today, we have 11 couples seeking to be officially married in the Church on July 5, 2014.  That's right 11 brides and less than a month of planning---paperwork, licenses, dresses, flowers, reception, and cake!  Thankfully, a mass wedding like this was done here last year in a neighboring village, and I have the help of some seasoned missionaries! But we need your help too!

We need prayer partners for the couples as well as financial sponsors for each one.  The entire celebration will only cost about $150 per couple!  That includes renting a beautiful gown, buying each bride a bouquet, and having one large reception with individual wedding cakes for each couple.  Not a bad deal, huh?

If you'd like to sponsor a couple, please visit our FMC donation page and make a one time donation of $150 with "Philippine Wedding" typed in the comment box.  Be sure to include your email address.  We will send you the name of your sponsored couple so that you can begin to pray for them.  We will also send you a picture of the couple on their wedding day.

If you are unable to fully sponsor a couple, you can still make a donation online.  As with any wedding, there will be "surprise" costs that pop up as we get closer to the wedding, therefore, any amount will be a great blessing to these couples. 

Meet the couples here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.716524638389875.1073741862.532149780160696&type=1

My Teacher Heart Breaks

I know that it's hard for all of our USA friends to think about Back to School---tuition, book fees, technology fees, school supplies, and uniforms!  But that is what we are knee deep in right now here in the Philippines since their school year runs from June to mid-March.

I know that back to school time is dreaded by parents---the school fees and the cost of school supplies, uniforms, shoes, etc. causes much anxiety.  It's the same here.  The only difference is that, here, some parents have to decide how many children they can afford to send to school this year.  Yes, you read that correctly!  It's not about what brand or how many pairs of something you can afford.  It's how many of your kids can you afford to enroll this year.

Often times the older kids have to drop out so that the younger ones coming up can begin school or in order to get a job to help support the family.  Many of the kids in the poor villages only get to finish elementary school (6th grade) if they even get to attend at all.  It is a great privilege for the poor to get to attend high school and an even greater accomplishment to actually graduate high school.  And for most of these kids, college is only a far off dream.

What makes this even worse is that the all the kids WANT to go to school.  They WANT to learn.  They WANT an education.  They WANT a better life for their family.  This is heartbreaking to me, a teacher, to see how hungry these kids are for an education and know that some will never have the funds available to go.  It also pains me to know just how many American students are throwing away the education opportunities that so many here would give anything for. 

The past two weeks God has sent so many people to our gate asking for help.  Some needed help paying last year’s fees in order to enroll their kids this year. Some needed help paying this year's fees.  Most needed help purchasing school supplies and uniforms.  They came asking for help and offering their services to us in return---washing our clothes, working at our work projects, cleaning our house or yard.  Most of the ones that come to our gate aren’t looking for a handout; they just want a little piece of hope for their children’s future.

I feel that this is one of the many reasons God sent our family to this particular mission post---to help break that cycle of poverty by helping to educate the poor.  I felt a little jealous of the single missionaries that were sent to Camguin, another island in the Philippines, when I found out they were going to be teaching at the local Catholic high school.  I miss teaching. Not the paperwork nonsense, but the actual teaching and making a difference part.  But God had other plans for the "teacher" in me.

God began to send all these hungry kids to our gate not long after we arrived.  At first I thought they were all hungry for food.  But as I began to get to know each one of these kids, I've learned that they are hungry for so much more.  They were hungry for love and affection.  They were hungry for knowledge, from English and Math to Jesus and the Bible!  They asked for their own bible study when we couldn't fit all of them on the motorella to go to our Thursday night bible study in a neighboring barangay.  They would sit with me for hours drilling math facts and playing spelling games. 

During our "tutoring" time, they began to share their dreams with me---their dreams of going to college, getting a good job, and supporting their parents so they wouldn't have to work and suffer so much.  Some dream of going to the USA to make lots of money to send back to their families here.  Yes, a few wanted to get a good job and have nice things, but every one of them wants to be able to help their families (parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc.) have a better life.  

We have talked to them about praying and asking God to help their families.  We talked about how God hears the prayers of children and how much He loves them.  They have responded by showing up for morning prayer at our house to pray for their families and showing up at our gate to join us for Mass on Sunday evenings.  The best part is that the kids are beginning to see changes in their own families.  They know God is listening.   Now, they are waiting for their prayer for a school sponsor to be answered.

The past two weeks have been so overwhelming.  They were probably the most exhausting weeks we've had so far here.  We were gone so much that our own kids forgot what we looked like.  But the look on this fourteen year old's face when he put on his new uniform and new shoes and went to school for the first time in 6 years, makes it all worth it.

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If you'd like to help kids like Joshua attend school, please email us at seilhanfly@gmail.com.  We have many others who are in need of a school sponsor.  Or make a donation to our school supply fund online at http://www.fmcmissions.com/portfolio/travis-and-melissa-seilhan/gallery/missionaries/. Just type Avinca/Isla School Supply Fund in the comment box. 

Back to Where It All Began

We left the Philippines about three weeks ago to fly home for my baby brother's wedding.  I was in high school when my mom found out that a God had sent our family a little surprise.  From the moment he was born, he became my baby.  He came everywhere with me---even on my dates!  So, I sat in the pew at the wedding prepared to have an emotional breakdown seeing my baby brother all grownup and married.  I was so proud of the man he was growing up to be. But I didn't breakdown into a blubbering blob of tears that night. 

Actually, it wasn't until I sat in that same church the following Sunday that the emotional meltdown happened.  It was Mother's Day and our 18th wedding anniversary.  The Mass had just begun when I realized that this was where it all began.

This was where I was baptized and made my First Communion.  That was the altar where Travis and I promised to love, honor, and cherish each other all the days of our lives.  That was the altar where our children were baptized and made their First Communions. Our Lady Help of Christians Catholic Church was where we had come each Sunday and many days in between for the "help" we needed to get through the week, the day, the moment...

As I began to think about the past 18 years, the good times and the bad times, the tears began to fill my eyes.  It had been a very long and hard 18 years.  We had had our share of bad times and worse times.  We had struggled at times to just stay afloat.  There were times when we thought we couldn't make it another day.  But we had persevered through it all because of the promise we had made to each other before God 18 years ago on that very altar.  And that was the altar that we had come to time and time again for the strength we needed to keep those promises.

And then it hit me... that altar is where our journey into mission life began 18 years ago when we dedicated our family to follow Christ.  It was the promise we made to accept and bring our children up in the faith.  It was the promise that we made to put Christ first in our marriage.  It was the promise we made to follow Him.  These promises that we made 18 years ago on that altar to each other and to God led us to where we are now---a Catholic missionary family living on the other side of the world.

And that's when it began---the emotional meltdown that I had been prepared for two nights before came full force.  There is no way that 18 years ago we would have ever agreed to such a life of ourselves much less our (future) children.  We probably wouldn't  have even agreed to "follow Him" back then had we known where He would take us.

But the amazing part of it all is that He knew this of us.  He knew that we weren't as "committed" to what we were promising as we imagined we were, but He still wanted us anyway.  He wanted us in our immaturity, our selfishness, our materialism, our stubbornness, and with our tiniest morsel of faith.

He would send us the trials we needed to grow more dependent on Him.  He sent us the good times that we needed to keep going beyond the bad times.  He spend 18 years molding us into who He needs us to be right now, and He will spend the next two years molding us into who we need to be beyond the mission field.  More importantly, He will use the rest of our Earthly lives molding us into who He meant us to be from the moment He created us.

From a Horse to a House

This is Doc.  Doc was our favorite horse.  He was the kindest, most gentle horse we had.  Even I, the "animal hater" as my kids call me, loved him.  He was the horse that was the hardest for us to part with when God called us to "sell everything and follow Him."  Many people came to see him and "test ride" him, but no one passed our approval.  Then one day this lady showed up to look at him and the horse trailer we had for sell.

Almost immediately, we felt at ease.  We knew deep down that this was the lady that was suppose to have Doc.  We were heartbroken when she left with the horse trailer, but not Doc.  For weeks, we kept trying to find the right buyer, but no one seemed to be a good fit for him.  We kept thinking and praying for the lady to come back and get him, but we knew that she had found a different horse and that this was one wish we'd have to give up on.  We were almost to the point of trying to figure out where we could keep him until we returned from missions when we received an early morning phone call.

It was her!  She explained to us that as she was sitting having her morning coffee looking out into her pasture, she knew that she had to buy Doc.  She was calling to see if we still had him and if he was still for sale.  She drove over and picked him an hour later.  It was hard to see him go, but we were so happy to know that God had heard our prayer and was continuing to take care of all of our worries.

Fast forward to the Philippines over a year later.  It was April 13th, and I noticed on my calendar that it was Doc's birthday.  I wondered how he was and thought about the family that had bought him.  I smiled as I thought about how we knew from the beginning that that family was suppose to have him and how great God was to work it all out.  Little did I know that God would soon reveal the rest of His plan and purpose for Doc.

Three days later, Wednesday of Holy Week, Travis and I realized that we were out of funds. We had had more people than usual coming for help those first two weeks of April and had unknowingly spent our entire monthly stipend in just two weeks.  We were discussing how we were going to pay our share of the next day's work project and the ct scan that one of our closest friends needed to have.  Plus, we still had lots of people depending on us for food for the rest of the month including our own four kids.  We were kind of in panic mode, when another good friend came over to ask for our help.

Her widowed aunt was being evicted from her home and only had four days to be out of her house.  Our friend told us the story of how the government destroyed her aunt's first home to build the highway.  They gave her a piece of land next to the city jail to build a new one, but being a widow with two children, she was afraid to live next to the jail.  So, she rented some land and build her home.  Now, she was being told that she had to be out by Easter Sunday, so the land owner could build a business.

The good news was that she had land to build a new house on.  The bad news was she had no money to build a new house and neither did we.  With our funds depleted, we told our friend the only thing we could, "We will pray about it and see what God wants us to do."  All evening we kept trying to figure out where we could get the money to build this lady a house, pay for the ct scan, pay for the work project, feed our family and all the other families in our neighborhood that count on us. Key word "we" were trying to figure it out!

We finally decided that the priority was the lady's house.  We knew we had extra in our FMC fund and could request additional money for our regular monthly needs.  And we planned to fundraise for the CT scan once home for the wedding.  So, I sat down at the computer to write a "beg letter" to send out to some of our mission partners (you!) but instead I found a message in my inbox from the lady who bought Doc.  She was writing to let us know that they had sold Doc to a very nice family and really felt like the money should be given to our family.  "Wait? What?"

As I continued to read, I knew that God had already taken care of everything!  Not only was it enough for to build the house, but for the CT scan, the work project, and food for the rest of the month!  The goosebumps began to cover my arms and the tears began to fill my eyes!  How awesome is our God!

And if that wasn't enough... I message her back immediately to tell her that we would be using some of the money to build a house for a widow lady that was just evicted.  She immediately answers me back telling me how she and her husband had tried several times to build a house for someone in need, but how it had never "worked out." They had finally just given it to God and told him to find the person they were to build the house for.  "Are you kidding me?"

Now the goosebumps covered my body and the tears covered my cheeks.  As we frantically emailed back and forth for the next few minutes, I was in total awe of how God works!  We purchased that horse in order to sell it to so that it could be sold to build a house in the Philippines!  We couldn't have come up with a better or more perfect plan! 

From a Horse


















   To a House.








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A home like this one only costs $500 (US dollars) to build.  There are many families here in need of a home.  If you or your group/organization would like to sponsor a home, you can visit our donation page to make an online donation.  Just type Build a Home Project in the comment box.  

Our newest project is Replace a Roof.  Many homes have grass roofs which are easily damaged by heavy rains and have to be replaced often.  We have begun to replace the grass roofs with tin roofs that will keep water out of the house and will last much longer.  This project costs around $200.  You can donate a roof by typing Replace a Roof in the comment box when donating online.

We also have a project called Floors for the Poor.  For just $75, you can help give a family a cement floor in their existing home.  We have already witnessed the benefit of a cement floor in one of the local communities.  The kids are overall healthier since they are not crawling around and playing in the dirt everyday.  Just type Floors for the Poor in the comment box when checking out if you'd like to sponsor a floor.

Visit the Seilhan Family Missions Donation Page to help with any of these projects.

Easter Sunday: American Style in the Philippines

After a very emotional Holy Thursday and Good Friday, we were very blessed to spend Easter Sunday with our friends and neighbors "American" style.  Well, as American as we could get here on the other side of the world!

God (and some of you) know how I enjoy hosting parties, gatherings, etc. for any occasion.  We had planned on having a big celebration in a park near our house on Easter Sunday with our entire neighborhood, but I battled a migraine for most of the week and some of the other missionaries battled sick kids all week.  I didn't think I'd be able to pull off a big celebration, so I planned just to have a quiet day at home with our little family.

But after the very blessed Holy Thursday and Good Friday, I knew that I needed to celebrate with those that had brought such joy to my life the last few months---the kids of Avinca Village.  Thankfully, the stores had reopened Saturday, and I was able to buy food to prepare for our celebration.  One of our missionary friends found plastic Easter eggs for me, and I found an actual pork roast to cook!

We got up early Sunday morning to a delicious smelling roast that I had put in a slow cooker the night before.  It smelled like home!  The kids even said that it smelled like my grandma's kitchen.  Then we cleaned up outside and set up the tables and chairs under our carport. Now it looked like home!  Then Isaac decided that we needed some Cajun music playing so he set up the iPod with the Backdoor Band playing.  Now it looked, smelled, and sounded just like home.

The neighborhood kids watched all morning through the gate as we cleaned and prepared for or celebration.  Some of them wanted to come in to help clean and sweep like they do on a regular day for me.  I told them today was a special day and that they could not work for us and that we were preparing a surprise for them.  Finally, we opened the gates and let them in. 

Isaac led us in an opening song.  Then Travis read Luke's gospel account of the Resurrection in English and the boys' friend Ian (who likes to stalk my blog looking for himself) read it in their language. 

Then we said the blessing and dug into the pork roast, rice and gravy, mashed potatoes, corn, and sweet peas!  I think they liked it!

After lunch Travis took all the kids outside of our gate onto the side street so that Emily could hide the Easter eggs.  When the moms realized what we were about to do, they excitedly got up to join Emily.  They may have had more fun hiding them than the kids had finding them! 

The kids kept asking Travis what they were going to do with the bags he gave them.  I think they thought I was going to make them pick up trash.  Some days I have them scour the neighborhood streets picking up all the candy wrappers that they throw on the ground.  We told them that they weren't picking up trash, so they decided to wear them as hats.

Finally all 72 eggs were hidden, and it was time to explain what we were doing!  They were so excited.  Some of them knew what Easter eggs were from TV or movies, but they had never had one much less "hunted" for them.  Travis opened the gates and let them in.  They ran around in circles at first not really knowing what to do, but when the first one spotted an egg----That was it!

It took them a few eggs before we made them understand the concept of the bag.  Many of them were carrying their eggs in one hand and the bag in the other.  Once they had a free hand, there was no stopping them until... someone realized that there was something in his egg!

 
 Travis had filled the eggs with candy that my mom had sent us from the U.S. but ran out before all the eggs were filled.  So, he copied good ole Aunt Judy, and started filling them with pesos!  The kids' faces were priceless when they discovered the treat inside.  And the race was really on to find the most eggs after that discovery!

We did have one who wasn't interested at all in finding the eggs or in the candy.  He was content with his cup of mashed potatoes!

After hiding eggs numerous times, the mess was all cleaned and the neighbors had all left.  Our family got ready for Easter Mass.  We had decided to fore-go the Easter Vigil on Saturday and attend the English Mass on Sunday evening.  I sat in the church surrounded by many of the neighborhood kids who had joined us in amazement at my first Easter away from home. 

From Holy Thursday to Easter Sunday, God had perfectly planned it all just for me.  He knew exactly what I would need to get through our first holiday away from home.  He humbled me when I needed humbling, but blessed me when He knew I would need a boost!

I can't imagine what my life or my kids' lives would be like if we had not said "Yes" when God called us to leave behind everything and move to the other side of the world.  Missions is truly the BEST life!

Happy Easter
from the
Seilhans!

Holy Week: Filipino Style

Our family has been so blessed to be able to celebrate Holy Week here in the Philippines.  On Monday, each Catholic church sends out 12 apostles to bless all the homes, sari sari stores, businesses, etc. in their area.  I had heard about this, but it was very humbling on Monday when I was shopping in town at one of the local vegetable stands and witnessed a family's little stand be prayed over and blessed with Holy Water.  Later in the week, three men from our parish showed up at our house to bless our home and pray for our family.

On Thursday, Travis tried to go to the bank and to the bakery to buy bread for our Good Friday tuna fish sandwiches. NOTHING was open in town.  All the banks, bakeries, stores, vegetable stands, fruit stands, restaurants, etc.  The entire city had closed down.  Praise God! We would definitely be fasting the rest of the week! We were in awe of reverence the people here had for what was about to take place. I wanted to jump on Facebook and the phone to everyone back home to tell them how awesome it was and that everyone needed to jump on a plane to come celebrate Easter here!

But during Holy Thursday Mass, I was beginning to feel a little homesick as I watched Father Emmanuel wash the feet of the 12 apostles that had been scouring our neighborhood blessing homes and stores earlier in the week.  I wanted to be at home with my parish family where I actually understood the words of the liturgy and knew the people getting their feet washed.  I was just about to feel sorry for myself when the twelve men stood up and walked down the aisle to find their wives.  Each one bent down and tenderly washed the feet of their wives. 

My eyes filled up with tears as I realized that "love" was really the only language that needed to be understood.  The love in these couples' eyes revealed the love that Christ had as He washed the feet of His apostles that night.  And the love that He feels for us each time He washes away our sins when we fall.  I stopped feeling sorry for myself and concentrated on what really mattered, "God so loved the world that He sent His only Son to die for us."

Olivia bringing up the water for "Pilate" to wash his hands.

The next morning, the kids left for the church at 5:00 am.  They had been practicing with the youth group for weeks to present the Passion of Christ for the parish Good Friday morning.  Isaac was an apostle. Philip was Barabbas. Emily was Mary Magdalene.  And Olivia was one of the women of Jerusalem.  I was anxious to see their performance, but I was not ready for what I was about to actually witness.

Travis and I walked over to the church about 7 am for the "play" to find that there was standing room only.  People were standing outside the church all the way to the street.  We squeezed in towards the front and found a spot with the youth kids.  The Way of the Cross began and as it was read aloud, the youth began to dramatize the Gospel parts being read.  I thought, "Awe, how nice."


Until the soldiers actually began to whip Jesus right before my eyes.  No pretending.  Real lashes on his back.  The pain I felt in my heart intensified when the children watching began to laugh as the soldiers scourged and spit on the boy portraying

 Jesus.  "Jesus" was finally forced to pick up His cross, and the crowd followed as we left the church and began to walk.  I was so overwhelmed as I watched hundreds of people file out of the church to follow these teens.   And was more in awe as we walked through the crowds gathered on both sides of the street who joined us as we passed them by.

My heart began to sink as I walked along side of "Jesus" and the "soldiers" as they whipped him, mocked him, pushed him.  There were kids running alongside throwing paper rocks at him and laughing each time.  At first, I began to get mad as I wondered where their parents were and why no one was telling them that this was serious, that this really happened, and that it was not funny.  Then I realized, this is exactly how it happened. Whoa!

This was the "way to the cross".  There were people following Jesus weeping.  There were people following in disbelief.  There were people laughing.  There were people following just to see the show.  There were people following to help torture Him.  There were people in their homes and yards that didn't care about what was happening on the road in front of their house.  There were men sitting on the side of the road drunk from the night before.  Some were still drinking.  There were people chitchatting and laughing along the way as if it were a regular day.  There were people throwing real stones at Him, spitting on Him, kicking Him, mocking Him the entire way.

My heart broke as I began to think about the "realness" of this walk.  But soon, Satan crept into my thoughts.  I began to get a little prideful as I thought about how I would NOT have been one of the ones mocking Him, spitting on Him, throwing stones at Him, laughing at Him had I actually been there for the "real" way of the cross.  Then it hit me---I mock Him each day when I choose not to love those around me.  I spit on Him daily when unkind words spew from my mouth.  I throw stones at Him when I choose not do what He asks of me.  I mock Him each time I sin and refuse His love.

At this point, I am about to burst out crying and throw myself on the street to beg for God's mercy, when two small boys from our neighborhood come up from behind calling my name.  "Tita MeeLeeza, we walk with you." And then one reaches out to hold my hand as we walk in silence the rest of the way back to the church for the "crucifixion."

The rest of the "Passion of Christ" was just as passionate as the beginning was.  I was in awe of the teens that had worked so hard these last few weeks to provide such a profound experience for the parish, for me in particular.

After it was over, so many wonderful people came up to thank me for allowing my kids to participate and to officially welcome us "foreigners" to the parish.  I looked around the church before we left and realized that I do know these people, they are my family.  They are my brothers and sisters in Christ. And our language is Love.

To see more pictures from the Passion of Christ, visit our family's Facebook page. (Link at the top of this page.)

Mystery Machine to Mission Machine

I'm sure most of you have seen or heard of Scooby Doo. Well, the mystery gang must have been here in the Philippines solving crimes and left behind their Mystery Machine just for us!  It has become the official "Mission Machine" of the Seilhan Family!

We have been praying and searching for a vehicle to use here in the Philippines.  Each time one was found, it was out of our price range or sold already.  We had kind of given up on the search thinking God was trying to tell us to just stick close to our neighborhood for our ministries or that He just wanted us to embrace the inconveniences that came with waiting for and riding on the motorella.

We finally just gave it to Him and said, "Ok, God if you want us to have a missionary vehicle, find us one.  If not, help us accept your will."  Of course, when you finally let go and let God, He can do some amazing things like send someone right to your gate with the perfect vehicle for you to purchase!

Yep, last week a neighbor who was selling a minivan showed up to ask if we were looking to buy a vehicle to use during our time here. "What? Really?" After seeing the Mexico seat covers, we knew that this was our new "Mission Machine" since Mexico is where we fell in love with missions.

After having our mechanic friend check it out, we made an offer of what we had been able to raise for a vehicle which was a lot less than they were asking.  And of course, since God had chosen it for us, they accepted our offer, and we are now the proud owners of the Scooby van!

It's bigger than it looks!  Not really!  LOL!
But we all fit and have room for extras!(Yes, that is the flat tire we woke to on the first morning.
Mission life gotta LOVE it!)

The best part is that our driver fits (well sort of)...

THANK YOU TO ALL WHO LISTENED TO GOD'S CALL TO HELP US PURCHASE THIS AWESOME VAN!  WE HAVE BEEN PRAYING FOR YOU!